


Under Your Spell

by Sulwen



Series: Serva Me, Servabo Te [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is late coming back from a club one night.  Tommy goes to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Your Spell

Tommy stands in the shadow of the bus, biting his nails and staring at the bright lights of the club. By some amazing stroke of luck, their hotel in this city is right next to a pretty epic gay bar – four stories, suites of private rooms, swimming pools. It's exactly the kind of place Big Damn Rock Star Adam Lambert would party, and Tommy suspects that he would have made the short walk over even if he wasn't being paid for his trouble. But it's going on four in the morning, and Adam always leaves before last call. Always.

No one's noticed but Tommy. The rest of the group had been involved in their own private party back at the hotel, and by now were either passed out or locked away behind closed doors, in pairings Tommy would never would have guessed at the beginning of this whole crazy journey. He's had a couple drinks himself, not wanting to seem too antisocial, but now he can barely even feel the buzz, the taste of whiskey just a memory on his lips.

He worries his phone between his fingers, checking it over and over, hoping for a message and wondering why he expects one. He's not Adam's keeper, and Adam's not a child, and hell, it's impossible to hear a phone in a club anyway. But the worry has gnawed its way deep into Tommy tonight, and he knows that he won't rest easy until he finds out what's going on. He suspects the whole production will thank him in the morning. A little scandal is a good thing, but Adam's had his share lately, and they've all expressed a desire to shift the focus back to the music.

It's that conversation playing out in his head that spurs Tommy into action. Adam is amazing and talented and actually kind of a PR genius, and Tommy would never forgive himself if all that went off the tracks because of some drunken mistake – not when he could do something about it.

He stows his phone in the front pocket of his hoodie and tugs the hood up over his hair, tucking it back behind his ear to make sure it's well-hidden. Yeah, he's not _that_ famous, but the last thing he needs is some crazy fan on his tail. He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and flips it open, double-checking on his ID – at this point in his life, he doesn't think he's ever going to stop getting carded. Then he tucks his hands deep into his pockets, bows his head, and makes his way across two parking lots to the entrance of the club.

It's too late at night for a line, so Tommy walks right up to the door. The guy gives him a weird look as he takes a cursory glance at his ID, and Tommy fidgets, fighting the urge to brush right past him. Finally, he's inside, and oh, _wow._ This place really is amazing. Everything is shining and sparkling and alive, set through with stainless steel and jewel tones. There are palm trees in the corners and long strings of beads hanging from the ceiling and swirling lights everywhere, and he can't see the floor through an ankle-high layer of fog. The music is pounding, loud enough that he feels it more than hears it, vibrations in his head and chest and feet. It's far from empty – small, tight groups of people still dance here and there, and there are bodies sprawled over bar stools and into couches, hard to pick out in the shifting light – but somehow it _feels_ deserted, not quite right without a pressing, anxious crowd looking for another drink, longing for a hot hookup, seeking, seeking....

The only thing Tommy's looking for at the moment, though, is Adam. He moves through the club quickly and quietly, reaching up from time to time to pull his hood down further, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious in this place. It makes looking around a bit harder, and he finds himself turning and turning, almost dizzy with it. He wonders what he'll do if Adam isn't here, then pushes the thought away. He'll be here. He _has_ to be.

Tommy is starting to lose hope by the time he reaches the fourth and final floor. Everything since the first room has just been a blur of faces that aren't Adam's, and he finds himself resenting the place, wishing he could turn the damn music down and the damn lights up. This last room is darker than any before, the light almost eerie, coming up from the floorboards in eye-tricking patterns. The colors he can pick out are all dark – deep red and lush green and ebon-black. The music is wandering and slow, experimental, the kind of non-melodic song Tommy imagines you might hear in an opium den, if such things existed in this part of the world. And everyone in the room is wearing a mask.

Tommy's taken aback by this at first, but then he sees the box of masks sitting by the door, the attendant more than half-asleep, head rested on folded arms. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Tommy reaches into the box and pulls out the first mask he touches, upswept black feathers suggesting the narrow face of a raven. He quickly pulls his hood down and puts the mask on, the strap tight against the back of his head. It feels kind of ridiculous, but this room is actually still pretty crowded, and Tommy's out of place enough in his street clothes as it is.

He darts through the crowd easily. They're not dancing, not really, just sort of swaying to a beat Tommy can't hear. In the strange lighting and the feathered masks, they look more like creatures than people, unearthly beings from the dark places of the world. Tommy shivers, and the tiny part of him that's not shrieking _AdamAdamAdam_ realizes how epically, epically cool this place is. It's a shame they're leaving tomorrow. It would be amazing to come back here, _with_ Adam this time.

And just as that thought is flickering through his head, Tommy finally, finally gets a glimpse of his friend...and his mouth literally falls open. Adam is doing so many unbelievable things at once that it takes Tommy what feels like ages to process them all, and he stands, frozen, gaping, trying to take it all in.

Adam is sitting in an honest-to-god _throne._ The whole back wall of the room is a giant set of stairs leading up to the ceiling, going nowhere, just for show. The throne is set back into them, flanked by steps on either side. It's golden and engraved and enormous, and it should be the tackiest thing in the world, except that Adam's sitting in it like he was born to be there: one boot braced up on the lip of the seat, popping a knee up, an arm thrown casually over it, his head tilted at a cocky angle, his eyes the perfect blend of bored intensity. He's in his stage clothes...how the _fuck_ is he in his stage clothes? But he is, the fleeting combination he wears only for a few moments in the show, laced pants and low-cut black shirt thrown over with dozens of necklaces, feathered top hat on his head. And he's not wearing a mask, the only person in the room to be bare-faced. Instead, his face is painted with heavy makeup, thick lines of glitter disappearing into his hair, cunningly placed shadows thinning and lengthening his face, all of it working together to turn Adam from a strikingly good-looking man into some breathtakingly beautiful fae creature that Tommy doesn't have words to describe, nor context to compare to.

But all of this pales in comparison to what Adam is doing with his right hand. Next to the throne, a few steps up, stands a tall woman in a mask of green and black. She is staring down at Adam, her hand trailing over the back of his neck, and Tommy can see her mouth moving, whispering words he doesn't stand a chance of hearing. Adam's hand has disappeared up her short skirt, his wrist moving in an unmistakeable pattern, fingering her slowly to the rhythm of the music. His face is blank, staring out over the crowd, and they stare back up at the pair of them, and it's as if the whole room has been hypnotized.

Tommy can't _move,_ just watches as the woman props a foot on Adam's thigh, spreading her legs wider, and bends down closer to whisper right in Adam's ear. They quicken, the movement of Adam's fingers matching the beat of her hips, and Tommy can feel a strange energy building, the air growing thick, heavy, difficult to breathe. He wants to run to Adam, to get right up in his face and break him out of his trance, scream and yell and slap him if he has to, but he can hardly muster the energy to take one step, and when he does, hands suddenly appear from the crowd around him, gripping his arms and holding him in place. He tries to call out, but his tongue feels clumsy and too-big, and he can't quite force it to make words.

The woman grins as she comes, and the energy peaks and crests, and Tommy can _feel_ it rushing back through the room, to the front, to the pair of them...to Adam. Suddenly, Tommy can move again, and the hands restraining him fall away. He tries to rush forward, but the crowd is moving too, and he can't find an opening. The tall woman steps away from Adam and blows him a kiss before disappearing into the crush of people, gone as surely as if she had never existed.

Tommy, fighting his way slowly through the mass of bodies, keeps his eyes on Adam, wondering if he'll wake up now, too. He waits for the confusion to set in, the embarrassment, the regret, and the quick departure that's sure to follow. But Adam just sits there, his pupils shot so wide his eyes look black, his hands gripping the arms of the throne so tight his knuckles are white. And when the first person comes within reach of him, some boy who barely looks old enough to be in here, Adam springs to his feet and _tackles_ him, pinning him to the floor and rutting into him, hard and relentless. Tommy's heart is in his throat, and he's _clawing_ at the crowd to let him through, and at long last, he's free.

He falls to his knees by Adam, grabbing at his shoulders, shouting who-knows-what in his ear, all too aware of the ring of people staring and digging for camera phones. But Adam shoves him away violently, sending Tommy sprawling. And fuck, he's not stopping, not listening, and the kid is crying now, clearly in pain as Adam rips and tears and bites at him, and the cameras are a chorus of clicking. Tommy feels like crying, too. This is it, then, the end of the road. They're all fucked. It was too good to be true, anyway.

But even if he's no longer going to be Adam's employee, Tommy's still Adam's friend, and the thought of Adam facing a rape charge twists something deep within him. He can't let that happen. He _won't._ And if Adam won't listen to reason, there's only one thing Tommy can think of that might get them out of this without felony charges.

Tommy gets to his feet and walks to stand over Adam, close, but not close enough for Adam to lash out at him again. He takes a quick breath, then rips off his mask and shouts.

"Adam!"

Adam hears, thank all the powers of the universe. He slows. Stops. Looks up and sees Tommy's face. The kid sees his chance and takes it, wrestling his way out from under Adam and scurrying off into the crowd.

Adam's voice is low when he speaks, low and powerful, a voice for giving orders. "Get out."

Tommy's confused for a second, and no one moves. Adam gets to his feet and points at him. "Not you. The rest of you. Out."

And the room must still be in shock, because they still don't go, just shift uneasily and begin to murmur to one another. Adam's face grows stormy, and there's fire in his eyes, and Tommy is about to turn and start physically pushing people toward the door when Adam moves again.

He jumps up onto the throne, standing on the seat, and crosses his arms, glaring at the crowd. "I said. _Get. Out."_

And either Adam's got some sort of power over them – and it's been a crazy enough night that Tommy's ready to believe anything at this point – or he just looks terrifying enough for none of them to want to risk staying to shoot pictures of the crazy celebrity. There's a veritable stampede for the door. Feathers go flying, and the music dies away, and the door slams behind the last to leave. They're alone.

Adam stares down at him from his perch, looking like some mad god, beautiful and terrible, and Tommy, in his wrinkled black jeans and old striped hoodie, feels like a virgin sacrifice. Not that he's a virgin. But, well...in a way, he supposes he is. He's never done anything with a guy except what he and Adam do on stage. And he's fucking _trembling_ like one, that's for sure. But it's Adam, and he can do anything for Adam. Anything.

For all his bravado, though, it's all Tommy can do to stand his ground when Adam jumps down to the ground and steps toward him slowly, looking for all the world like a great black panther, long and lithe, stalking its prey. He stops mere inches away, and Tommy can _feel_ that unnatural energy radiating off him. A snarl plays on his lips, and his eyes are wild and black and foreign, and he speaks only one word, low and throaty, almost a growl.

_"Run."_

And Tommy does. He doesn't think about it, just reacts to the fear spiking hot and electric in his stomach, and Adam is right on his heels. Tommy is faster, but Adam's legs are longer, and he just barely keeps out of the range of Adam's reaching fingers. He circles the room desperately, wracking his brain for a way to slow down the situation, force some sanity back into Adam's eyes. Just as he's beginning to lose hope, he catches a glimpse of shining metal lurking in a corner. A cage, thick crossing bars, probably inhabited by a dancer or two on most nights. Tommy cuts a sharp angle toward the cage, gaining just enough of a lead to throw himself into it, slam the door, and throw the lock.

Adam is a split-second behind him, crashing into the bars at full speed, and Tommy winces – that's going to bruise. He backs into the corner of the cage, putting as much distance between himself and Adam as possible, and tries to catch his breath. Adam is _writhing_ against the bars, trying to reach through, but they're too close together. When he realizes this, Adam grips the bars instead and starts rattling the door, straining against it hard, muscles cording with effort. He looks _possessed,_ and Tommy is actually cowering, trying to disappear into the wall.

It's only a few minutes before Adam relents, the door still holding strong, but it feels like an age. He steps back, staring at Tommy through the bars, panting with exertion. He blinks quickly several times, and his head twitches in a profoundly disturbing way...but then his eyes clear, just a bit, and he looks at Tommy with recognition in his eyes.

"Help...please...burning up...." Adam moans, and Tommy can see what an effort it is just to form those few words.

His heart breaks, and his fear tastes different now, less fear for himself and more for Adam. "What...what can I do? How do I help you?" he asks, though he has a sinking feeling that he knows.

Adam just moans and presses up against the bars again, thrusting against them and pinning Tommy with a hungry stare. His skin is deeply flushed, noticeable even in the dim light, and he's dripping sweat, and Tommy would almost swear he could hear Adam's heart racing. But what's really scaring Tommy is that he can still feel that crazy energy flowing around Adam, and it seems to be getting worse, building and building, worsening as Adam tries to fight it, and Tommy really doesn't want to know what will happen if they don't deal with it.

Hesitantly, Tommy inches forward, coming closer to Adam but still not within touching distance, and Adam goes _wild,_ fingers reaching through the bars, hot tongue licking at the metal, eyes heavy-lidded and devouring. And Tommy can't take it any more, can't stand here and not help. It's just his body, and it more than half belongs to Adam anyway, and wait, where had _that_ thought come from?

But then he's pressing up against the bars, and Adam's tongue is on his lips, and Adam's fingers are brushing over his skin wherever he can reach it, and the heat and energy envelop Tommy and draw him in. It doesn't feel particularly good, Tommy too worried about Adam to be able to even attempt to enjoy this and Adam too frantic to try and convince him otherwise, but something about submitting to Adam, giving in to what he's so desperate for...it feels strangely right. He wonders for a moment if what's been done to Adam is effecting him as well.

And oh god, Adam is always intense, particularly on stage, and Tommy's actually pretty used to being the subject of that intensity, but this is a whole new level. He feels like Adam is trying to _consume_ him, and he doesn't even toy with the idea of opening the door. Maybe Adam can work this thing out on his own.

Tommy stops thinking and goes with the energy in the room. As long as those bars are between them, Adam can't hurt him, and though he can think of a couple scenarios that are a little gross, it'll be worth it to get Adam back to normal. He puts on his stage face, pouting lips and narrowed eyes, and wishes he had his makeup on. He looks up at Adam through his eyelashes, wanton, and Adam strains against the bars again, mindless, and Tommy smirks a little, because despite this whole fucked-up situation, and despite the whole not being gay thing, it always makes him feel good that Adam Fucking Lambert thinks he's hot.

He can just barely reach one of Adam's laces through the bars, and he pulls on it, working Adam's pants open and pushing Adam's fingers back through the bars and down. Adam's so overcome it's like he's forgotten what he's supposed to do for a moment, but then habit and instinct take over and he grips his cock, stroking hard and rough, never taking his eyes off Tommy. Tommy sighs in relief, hoping that this will be enough, that he can just stand there and look pretty and let Adam do his thing.

But apparently it's not enough, because Adam gets the fingers of his free hand through the bars and onto Tommy's shoulder, pushing down, down, and oh, _fine,_ goddamn it, if that's the way it has to be. Tommy sinks to his knees, hoping to god that no one sees them like this, because kneeling in front of Adam while he jerks off would probably give the wrong impression. He looks up the long line of Adam's body, watching him, and maybe that's weird, but Tommy can't help it. Adam's _magnetic_ right now, and Tommy would fucking dare _anyone,_ regardless of sexuality, to try and look away.

At the last moment, the reality of what's about to happen hits Tommy, and he realizes that it probably wouldn't be a good thing to walk out of here with Adam's come all over his clothes. He yanks his hoodie over his head and throws it into a corner, baring his upper body to Adam's gaze, and Adam lets out this ridiculous sound that's kind of like singing and kind of like screaming and comes.

Tommy closes his eyes and winces and lets it happen, warm and wet and heavy, striping his lips and face and chest, dripping off his chin...and he knows even before he opens his eyes again that it didn't work. If anything, Adam seems _worse,_ clearly still painfully hard and almost crying with frustration, and yeah, in case he still had any doubts, this is _not_ normal. He wonders fleetingly if Adam's been slipped something, some drug, but the energy is pricking at his exposed skin, giving him goosebumps and making him shiver, and what kind of drug could possibly do that?

Several thoughts fly through Tommy's head in quick succession, a crazy mix of panic and fear and anger and how long can the body sustain that kind of heart rate, anyway? And damn it, he owes Adam everything, and more than that he's one of the most amazing people Tommy's ever met, and he knows Adam would take a fucking _bullet_ for him if need be. So he gives his face a cursory wipe, takes a deep breath, and reaches up to unlock the door.

Adam is on him in a second, coming inside and filling the small space, and Tommy briefly marvels at the sheer size of him – he wouldn't even be able to fit with the hat still on, but it must have come off sometime during their chase, rolled away somewhere on the sticky club floor, and won't _that_ be a nightmare in the morning. And then Adam's hands are taking his hair in a painful grip and he's forcing his cock into Tommy's mouth, and, as has always been his instinct, Tommy's opening right up for him, letting Adam use him. Adam is big – of _course_ – and rough, and it's all Tommy can do not to gag. He feels distinctly unsexy, just kneeling there trying to breathe, but Adam sounds like the fucking rapture has come, and the look on his face is pure ecstasy, and Tommy watches and keeps reminding himself that this isn't Adam, not really, this isn't how it would be, you know, for real.

Adam comes down his throat, his grip unyielding, giving Tommy no chance to pull away, and this time he really _does_ gag, choking and coughing and spitting all over the floor as soon as Adam lets him go. When he can breathe again, he runs the back of his hand over his mouth and turns to look at Adam, assess the situation. And ok, this is working. Adam's still crazy amped up, still hard – and how the fuck is that even physically possible? - but he no longer looks like he's about to have a heart attack at any second, and the energy has lessened just a bit.

Tommy swallows hard, his jaw aching. Then he crawls back to kneel in front of Adam again, and opens his mouth. Adam groans and starts fucking his face again, and goddamn it, they're going to be here all night at this rate, and Tommy won't ever be able to talk again. And just as he's thinking that, Adam seems to regain the power of speech, and he's making his desires very clear.

"Oh, fuck, so fucking good Tommy, on your knees for me, such a good boy, you take my cock so pretty, but _fuck_ I wanna fuck you, need to be _in_ you, wanna split open that tiny little ass, make you ride me til the sun comes up, bend you over and fucking _break_ you, holy _fucking_ christ..."

You don't spend months and months touring with Adam Lambert and his people without learning at least a little bit about gay sex, and Tommy's pretty much a theoretical expert by now. He suspects that nothing can make this _good_ (and there's that whole not gay thing, that too, remember that?), but there are things he can do to make it better. His too-big jeans are already falling off, and it's the work of a moment to shimmy out of them the rest of the way and take his underwear with them, even with Adam thrusting wildly above him. Tommy runs his fingers through the mess of saliva and come on his chin and then reaches down behind himself, feeling for his asshole.

He'd be lying if he said he'd never done this before, but it's always been just the barest touch, just contact at the very brink of orgasm to push himself over the edge. He slides his finger in, and it's strange and foreign and feels very very _private._ But he can sense Adam's orgasm approaching, and he doesn't have time to take it slow. He pulls out, then adds another finger, scissoring them, stretching himself as quickly as he can, and yeah, it's not comfortable, but Adam's cock is a _lot_ bigger than his fingers, and there's no way Adam's slowing down to do this himself. Somehow the rhythm of his thrusting fingers catches on the rhythm of Adam's thrusts into his mouth, and it's too much and too intense and too _everything,_ and a new sensation comes over Tommy, one that's not pleasure, but not quite pain either. It's almost like...like floating....

But then Adam's coming again - _again_ \- and it jolts Tommy out of whatever that feeling was starting to be, and once again all he can think about is getting back to a state where he can _breathe._ When he can, panting and sore and really just so happy to have his mouth closed, Tommy gets to his feet and just stands, looking up at Adam, waiting for him to make the next move. Adam's eyes rake up and down Tommy's body, and he's only just now realizing that Tommy's naked, and Tommy shivers under his gaze, forcing himself not to try to cover up, to hide.

Adam gathers Tommy up in his arms and pulls him in close, burying his head in Tommy's hair and rubbing his hands up and down, touching as much of Tommy's skin as he can reach, and Tommy actually smiles a bit. That's touchy-feely Adam, cuddly Adam, and he _knows_ that Adam...which means this is working. It actually feels good, Adam's soft hands on his skin, stroking and calming, particularly after being used so hard, and for just a second Tommy lets himself relax into it.

And then Adam grips his ass and lifts him _up,_ and Tommy's legs go around his waist, and he almost loses his balance until his flailing hands find the bars on the top of the cage and grip onto them for dear life. Adam wraps one arm around his waist, holding him tight, and the other hand goes to his cock, lining them up, and oh _fuck,_ yeah, that hurts, but it's just another pain to add to the ache in his knees and the throbbing in his jaw and the stretched-out hoarseness of his throat, and he can take it. What suddenly hits him, a thousand times more worrisome than the pain, is the fact that Adam's not wearing a condom...and then he's not even thinking about the fact that Adam's fucking him, totally consumed by the hundred safety lectures he's heard Adam give and receive. His eyes shoot open and he stares at nothing over Adam's shoulder, imagining the worst. But just as panic is starting to set in, Adam's hand comes to his cheek, and he turns Tommy's face to meet his eyes. He doesn't speak, just pins Tommy with this _look,_ and it's the most he's looked like himself all night, and Tommy remembers that this is _Adam,_ who's the safest person he knows, and oh yeah, they've all been living together pretty damn openly for months now on those buses, and he would probably know if Adam had anything, and even if he did it's too late now.

Adam redoubles his efforts, and Tommy feels like he's being split wide open, and he can't handle looking into Adam's eyes, so he throws his head back and lets himself hang on the bars, his upper body angling away from Adam, his legs still wrapped around. And Adam groans and gets his hands on Tommy's hips, gripping tight enough to bruise, and he starts to lose his rhythm, thrusts going erratic, and fuck, Tommy can _feel_ it when Adam comes, cock pulsing inside him and shooting deep, and oh, that is just _strange._ But it's also kind of crazy intimate, and suddenly he wonders if this is how it feels to be a girl, a little bit, to be on the receiving end instead of the giving, and there's some deep thought there that he thinks involves chalices and goddesses and maybe the earth-mother, but he'll have to ask Cam about it later because he doesn't really know, and wait a minute, _no,_ he's never telling anyone about this ever, remember?

His thoughts are still a mess when Adam's arm goes around his waist again. Adam's hand reaches up to gently pry his fingers away from the bars, and Tommy lets himself collapse into Adam's body, clutching him with arms and legs, holding on like he's never going to let go. Just...he needs something to hold onto right now, and Adam is big and warm and strong, and fucking _hell,_ this is the most fucked-up thing he's ever done.

They stand like that for a few moments, just holding onto each other, but Adam's starting to tremble and Tommy's hips are aching, and Tommy stirs and wriggles his way down Adam's body to the ground, knees weak but holding. Just.

The energy is just a low hum now, but it pulses in Tommy's head threateningly, just daring them to stop now and let it build again. He looks at Adam, who seems to be almost back to normal except that he's _still fucking hard._ And then he gives Adam a small smile, resigned, and asks, "One more time?"

Adam's face is all twisting emotion for a moment, but finally, it settles on anger, white-hot rage that makes Tommy take a step back, running right into the wall of the cage. It's not directed at him, he knows, but still...he's seen Adam through some serious shit, and he's _never_ looked this pissed off. Not that Tommy blames him. If they ever track down the bitch that did this....

But then Adam's grabbing him and pulling him out of the cage, and Tommy lets himself be led back to the golden throne. Adam stares at it for a moment, as if he's deciding what he wants to do. Then he nods and turns back to Tommy. "On there. On your knees. Grab onto the back," he says, and Tommy obeys, taking the position Adam's decided on, and god, it's the most exposed he's ever felt in his life, nothing but shining metal before his eyes, ass in the air and fucking _presented_ to the whole room, and it doesn't matter that it's empty, it's still fucking embarrassing as all hell.

Adam comes up behind him, and he must be standing down a step, because the angle is actually pretty perfect, and Tommy's not sure whether to be grateful for that or not as Adam enters him one last time. And _oh,_ it's so much deeper this way, and Adam has so much more power behind his thrusts, and he feels like he's taking out every bit of his rage on Tommy, pounding into him with an audible smack every time he bottoms out. Adam's hands are on his hips again, and _fuck,_ it's slicker now, easier, but it's still more painful than anything, an intrusion that Tommy's had no time to warm to.

And yet...that floaty feeling is starting to seep over him again, and as it penetrates his body, he starts to relax, let go, give in completely to Adam's stronger will. His mind kind of goes away for a while, and he loses himself in sensation, floats away on the madness and the intensity and the steady rhythm of Adam's thrusts.

*

Tommy wakes up on the floor, sprawled below the throne at the base of the steps. Adam's come is drying on his face and seeping out of his ass. His throat is swollen, and his knees are torn to shreds, and his ass aches so much that he doesn't think he'll ever sit again. Groaning, he sits up and looks around for Adam. They have to get out of here before anyone comes in and sees them, because this is going to be enough of a nightmare to deal with already without people knowing about...well, whatever this was.

Adam is slumped in the throne again, a looking-glass image of what Tommy had seen when he first entered this place. His clothes are skewed and torn, and his hair's a ruffled mess, and his face is slack, exhausted. Realizing that he's still naked himself, Tommy goes to retrieve his clothes from the cage in the corner and slowly, painfully, dresses himself. He turns to a mirrored wall and does his best to fix his appearance, combing his hands through his hair and grabbing a towel off the bar to clean his face. Limping, he makes a circle around the room, looking for Adam's hat. It's rolled into a corner, and miraculously, it's fairly clean. He picks it up and goes back to wake Adam.

It takes a while to wake Adam up, Tommy shaking him by the shoulder and calling his name over and over. When he does, it's long and slow, like he's coming out of a trance, and Tommy freezes for a second. He _thinks_ the ordeal is over...there's none of that crazy energy in the room, not that he can sense, anyway...but maybe he's wrong. Adam's eyes are brilliantly blue when they open, though, and it only takes the barest second for realization to spill across them.

Tommy gives Adam a wan smile and holds out his hat. "Come on. Lace up. We have to go," he croaks, hoping Adam can understand his mangled voice.

Adam stares back at him, unmoving, and Tommy can see him breaking from the inside, guilt and regret and sorrow stealing all the light from his eyes. He wants to speak again, comfort Adam, tell him it wasn't his fault and that Tommy basically offered himself up anyway...but he can't quite seem to do it, and oh, standing seems to be getting difficult as well all of a sudden, and the last thing he feels before the blackness consumes him is Adam's strong arms catching him up.

*

He comes to in the bath. Adam is sitting behind him in the tub, cradling him in his arms and rubbing slow, soapy circles over Tommy's chest. The water is warm and soothing, and it feels good on all his sore places, and Adam is big and solid against his back, and Tommy makes some kind of happy content sound that, fuck you, is totally _not_ a purr.

Adam startles, realizing that Tommy's awake, and he instantly goes to get up. But that means Tommy has to move, and moving is a bad hurty thing right now. He gasps at the sudden ache of pain, and Adam hears it and sinks back down, settling back into the comfortable position they'd been in. Tommy wonders how long it will be before Adam starts apologizing. He thinks not very long.

He's right. "Tommy, I...I'm so, so sorry," Adam murmurs brokenly.

"You remember it, then?" Tommy asks, and his voice is still hoarse and too low and not quite his, but the hot, steamy air seems to be making it easier to talk. "I wasn't sure if you would."

Adam nods against him. "Every minute."

"So you remember that I _let_ you?"

Adam's arms hug him tighter. "God damn it, Tommy. Why did you _do_ that? Why were you even there?"

Tommy sighs. "Because I was worried about you, you idiot, and you should be glad I was, because you would have seriously hurt someone if I hadn't been."

"I did seriously hurt someone. You."

Tommy can't really argue with that, not really, so he changes the subject instead. "What _happened,_ Adam? Who was that woman...the one you...um..."

Adam shakes his head. "I don't know. I was having a good time, exploring the club, and I found that room with all the masks, and it was so cool...reminded me of the show, you know? So I put on a mask and went in, and the next thing I know this chick is pulling me out of the crowd and taking my mask off and sitting me down in this throne...and then I don't know what she did, exactly, but whatever it was should be illegal in every state. I completely lost my mind for a while...." He trails off. "But yeah, I remember. And I wish I didn't."

"What happened after I passed out? I mean...how did we get here?" Tommy asks.

"I carried you out of the club and back here. It was weird...like we were invisible or something. No one even looked at us. And they really should have. I mean, setting everything else aside, my hat is pretty fucking noticeable." Tommy giggles, even though it hurts. He's so glad to have Adam back to his old self that the pain kind of doesn't seem to matter. "So I brought you up to my room and tried to figure out how much damage I'd done...but it's really not too bad. You're probably sore as fuck, and will be for a while, but you don't have any cuts or tears or anything. The worst part of it is probably how scraped-up your knees are, but I got some of that antibiotic cream from the front desk, and as long as you use that a couple times they should heal fine. And then...well, I didn't want to wake you up, but the best thing I know for when you're sore all over like that is to just soak for a long time in a hot bath...and I couldn't let you be alone in the tub when you were still passed out, so...here we are."

The whole thing comes out as one long ramble, Adam hardly pausing for breath. Tommy is silent for a while, taking it all in. Eventually, another question floats to the top of his mind. "What about the press? There were dozens of people who got...not-good pictures of you," he asks.

Adam shrugs. "I don't get it either. I called Lane, thinking she was going to scream her head off at me, but she hasn't heard a thing. Not one picture, not one quote, nothing. It's like...maybe no one remembers it but us."

Tommy shivers, and Adam holds him closer. "Fucking weird, man," Tommy says. "I don't even...how do you even start to explain it?"

"You don't," Adam says simply. And Tommy wants to ask more questions, try and come up with a theory and maybe get on the laptop and start searching for answers. But maybe Adam's right...maybe it's best to just leave it alone.

"You are never going out without me again," Tommy says, "and I don't care what the press thinks."

Adam stills, going tense behind him. "Tommy...I...I thought you might want...I don't know, some space. After I...what I did. I'll release you from your contract if you want. I totally understand. You probably don't want to be anywhere near me right now."

And the fact that Adam would think such a thing considering what they're doing right now makes Tommy laugh again. Unbelievable. "Don't you fucking dare. Adam, I did what I did because I care about you. A _lot._ It was my _choice._ And yeah, it wasn't fun, but we got through it. Ok? So...can we just go back to what we usually do? Drive around and play music and hang out in ridiculously expensive hotels and be awesome rock stars?"

He twists his head around to look at Adam's face. Adam is staring down at him, stunned. A long moment passes.

"I don't think I'll ever understand you, Tommy Joe," Adam says, but a smile is playing on his lips.

Tommy smiles back, still reeling in how good it is to see the real Adam, the non-sex-crazed one. "I'm ok with that," he answers.

And as Tommy lets himself drift, he knows that this isn't over. Neither of them are really dealing with what's happened, because it's too soon and too close, and there's probably going to be one hell of a breakdown waiting for them down the road. But for right now...they're ok. They're still friends, still closer than Tommy's ever been with any other friend he's ever had.

And maybe...just maybe...if somewhere down the road Adam wants to apologize for last night by showing Tommy how different, how good and sweet and nice gay sex can be...well, that might be ok too.

He chuckles to himself, low vibrations in his chest, and Adam pokes him gently in the arm. "Hey! What's so funny?" he asks.

And Tommy just smiles to himself and keeps his mind solidly on the future, and better days to come.


End file.
